


family

by threadoflife



Series: femlock verse [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cats, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Female John Watson, Female Sherlock Holmes, Female Sherlock Holmes/Female John Watson, Femslash, god so happy let me die, happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 07:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15091997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threadoflife/pseuds/threadoflife
Summary: Theirs was a small flat they shared with five cats.There is no sanctuary like home.





	family

**Author's Note:**

> Fluffy cute stuff I drew for wonderful 221booksinthetardis, to go with her gorgeous, gorgeous fanart (http://221booksinthetardis.tumblr.com/post/175108732443/family)
> 
> First shared here
> 
> http://wssh-watson.tumblr.com/post/175112782792/221booksinthetardis-family-theirs-was-a-small

Theirs was a small flat.

An open, generous living room with wide windows and bright curtains (purple; flowery; their landlady insisted) and a fire place with two cosy arm chairs, messes of books and papers and various artistic utensils (a violin; notebooks; handles; brushes; canvases &c.); a smallish kitchen, just big enough to fit a square table in; an old fashioned bathroom, pastel green tiles (Joan was looking to substitute these; Sherlock was forever bitching about antique not equalling style), with a small window; and their bedroom with its intricate, rich wallpaper and old style bed.

In every corner: scratching posts, toys, cat beds, wads of crumpled paper and tissues and wool. Though Sherlock was quite fussy and clean about it, there were cat hairs everywhere.

It was their sanctuary.

Neither of them was sure, really, how they’d come to have five cats. Though Sherlock was the original crazy cat lady, Joan too had grown up with a cat and loved it; it had probably been a mutual effort in the end, Sherlock’s desire for a dozen cats at home infecting Joan like everything else Sherlock did or was infected her (with delight, terror, love; so many things she could hardly catch up).

When they weren’t catching criminals or bitching at each other or shagging, they were lazing around. They became furniture, then. Trod on, walked over, scratched, hissed at, slept on. They were both that kind of insane to love it. There was nothing better but to sit on the fuzzy rug before the fire place and play at being cat furniture.

“She’s bitchy today, huh,” Joan joked as she quickly drew back, just evading a swipe of Su’s furious paw. “Bloody beast.”

“When isn’t she.” Sherlock looked like the besotted fool she was down into her lap, wide and crooked, where Su was standing on her hind legs hissing at Joan for daring to kiss her mama.

Joan rolled her eyes, muttered, “Impossible to teach her if you spoil her like that,” but she let it go. Whatever. She’d get to have Sherlock later, in bed, with the doors closed and at least two cats yowling away into the night. That was satisfaction enough.

Anyway—Bubbles was a furry pretty ball in her lap, purring happily away. Bubbles was Joan’s; Joan was Bubbles’. Joan could do anything she wanted to him. They were in love. Sherlock loathed Bubbles, some days.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Sherlock said, scratching Snuggles, sitting on her shoulder, idly beneath the chin. Snuggles made a happy noise, and Sherlock cooed back, smitten and dumb and not caring about it at all. The heartless detective—never heartless for pussies of any kind. Especially not for those that were currently in the room with her. “Look how fat Bubbles got, with you sneaking him all those treats.”

“Shush.” Joan grinned, puckering her lips in an exaggeration fashion at Sherlock. “You’re just jealous you’re not as comfy as him.”

“Oh of course.” Sherlock paused. “I can remember someone telling me just this week… how… what was it? Ah yes— _unbearably fucking sexy_ my sharp hipbones were.”

“Shush,” Joan repeated, a little more forcefully. “If you’re going to tease me, do it properly. I said how unbearably fucking sexy my _babe’s_ hipbones were.”

“… Yes,” Sherlock agreed, a little belated, a faint flush on her cheeks. She hid her face in Snuggles’ fur, away from Joan’s slyly glinting eyes.

From somewhere, there was a crash; a yowl; a hiss; and the noise of two cats running like madmen up and down the staircase in the hallway.

“For fuck’s sake,” Joan groaned, rolling her eyes. “They’re at it again.”

“Mmmmh.” Sherlock just hummed in agreement. They looked at each other for a moment, and both were mentally counting down: 3… 2….

1…

“DANTE! VIRGINIA!!!!” Mrs Hudson was yelling at the top of her lungs. “LEAVE MY COOKIES BE!”

After a shared brief smile, Joan shooed Bubbles off her and got reluctantly up. “Going to save ma from the beasts,” she murmured, kissing the side of Sherlock’s head. “Be right back.”

Eyes closed when Joan’s lips touched her head, Sherlock’s hand reached out, caught Joan’s wrist. She pulled her down and kissed her, sweet and lingering, on the mouth. “Now you can go,” she said lowly, eyes impossibly soft.

Joan went, chest full and light.


End file.
